CHRISTMAS SNAPSHOTS

Christmas Carol Singing in Rethymnon

 As we are on the move, it may take a few days before we can use the computer again, so here is a quick round-up of photos taken over Christmas.

View over the Mill Garden from our plot

We have our work cut out in the Olive Garden ....

Much more tree-lopping required

What a raffle prize for the person who NEVER wins raffles!

Our Hamper contained all sorts of treasures from home

Christmas Lunch went well ....

Turkey a la Nigellisima

Chronia Polla!

The weather was good ....

Stuart's photo over the White Mountains

We received a Christmas Card from our grandsons!

After rustic rug making for 18 months, we kept tripping over it and found a lovely carpet instead!

We will do a proper blog as soon as possible!  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

ATTESTATION D'EXISTENCE BY BUS

Christmas Crib out on the Pavement

I seem to have taken a lot of bus journeys this week which is not altogether a hardship. The timetable between Heraklion and Chania is a good one with a comfortable bus running every hour and they seem to be very reliable. The choice between taking the car or the bus to a big town is not hard to make. Towns are jammed with masses of vehicles, few parking places and are always a bit terrifying for the unwary.

The French Government needed confirmation for the third time that I was still alive (heaven knows why they are writing and talking to me if I am not) , the first Attestation signed by my Family Doctor and the second by Solicitor had not persuaded them, so it seemed that the British Consulate would be the only port of call, although the local Town Hall in Perama would also have done but the Attestation Form had provided a translation for every European language except Greek and I did not think it right to expect our friends at the Town Hall to sign a French form that they did not understand. So, after a year of hassle, I was still battling on and a trip to Heraklion of about 35 miles was called for.

The Confectioners' Shop was all decorated

The weather was wet, windy and a bit gloomy that morning and I looked out over the sea from the Panormo bus stop which did not have its normal lovely colour and looked uninviting. Three Albanian lads were also waiting and, true to Cretan form, started up a conversation. Where was I from, did I live in Crete? They were searching for work in the big city. I apologised that my Greek was not very good but we managed to communicate and I could say that I knew the bus left the bus station in Rethymnon at quarter to the hour, so it should be here in a minute or two. We were glad to climb aboard when it did arrive because the cold winds and cloud had lowered even further and the rain began to fall down with vicious precision.

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As we bowled along the national road, it was good to be high up on the bus where I had a good view over the hills, mountains and beaches. A little ahead, I could see a waterspout out at sea and I noticed that the Greek ladies on either side of me were crossing themselves energetically at each church we passed and at any point in between at which they thought help was needed from above. I joined in, in my own way! I was relieved to get nearly into the hairpin bends which announce the approach to Heraklion when we stopped at a long traffic tail back. The equation of heavy rain + national road normally = accident. So the ladies and I carried on with our devotions until the traffic started to move and everyone except me on the bus stood up to take a good look at the aftermath. Cretans are unashamedly curious about everything around them and very voluble! It must have been a serious accident because everyone had heard about it on the TV news.

Christmas at the Wool Shop in Iraklion

I arrived at the bus station a little late, but thankfully still not too late for my appointment and donned hat and umbrella for the walk to the British Consulate. The hat immediately blew off and the umbrella inside out – so I abandoned all hope of looking respectable and hurried through the backstreets towards the small square where the building houses the British Vice Consul. It was a bit of a reverse culture shock! I stepped into this haven of peace, efficiency, quietude and no crowds of jostling people. The lady at reception took my papers, and with perfect English explained what the process was and disappeared to see the Vice Consul. 3 minutes later, she returned with my form duly completed, now brandishing a large red seal, several stamps and a signature. I do hope that the French Government are impressed with it because I wanted to put it in a frame – and why not – I AM ALIVE, so there!

Anyway, I needed a few comforts and set off to Everest for coffee, lunch and a cloakroom. On the way there, I passed an open portico full of children's voices, calling and playing. Inside was a sale of children's art work to raise funds, so I looked at calendars, decorated pomegranates (which seem to symbolise a fruitful and prosperous New Year) and decorations made from fir cones, nuts and dried fruits. The teachers behind the stalls looked pale, thin and not very happy, so I chose carefully and bought things in preparation for Christmas mentally wishing them all a much better New Year than this has been.

Olive Branch!

Meanwhile, at home, the new olive grove provided us with a lovely bushy branch to decorate for our Christmas tree. The fairy on the top looks a bit precarious, but otherwise, from one viewing point, it looks reasonably festive.

.. or Christmas Tree!

Wellington booted, we spent a very happy hour in the Olive Grove in a gap in the weather at the end of the week sorting out wood piles to prospective log burner fodder for next winter and thinner clippings for a bonfire outside. Magically, the sun came out for a lovely hour or two and it felt like heaven. We had cleared two patches and planted a few rows of seeds which we had had in the cupboard from last year. People wandered past on their way up to the church or on their way back from their fields with loaded wheelbarrows. All were kind, friendly and very curious about who was working in the garden. As I stood up to tidy up, the view over the valley to the hillsides, olive groves and farms in the mid-distance were lovely with the shadows of winter sunshine. We are so lucky to have this patch to work with which means olive oil in the future and a healthy log pile. Such things are currency hereabouts and a great gift in preparation for Christmas!

Tidying up in the Olive Grove

OLD SECRETS AND NEW

 

Exploding oven doors, broken dip-sticks and all manner of silly happenings have taken up so much time this week. We got yet ANOTHER delaying message from the French Pension Service which seem designed to send up my blood pressure and kill me off so that they don't have to bother about sorting out my very small portion of pension. Sadly GGGGrrrrrrr in English typed into Google Translate ends up as GGGGrrrrr in French also! We wonder if going to work each day protected us from all this time-wasting nonsense all around us now we are retired? I was a bit cross with Kimon for even thinking about checking the oil and water in the car before I went to Art Class on Tuesday because the entire dip-stick and housing came away from the sump (whatever that is) and we haven't been able to use the car all week. We spent many happy hours with the Greek Yellow pages trying to find the Opel Dealers and the supplier of our cooker to order spare parts and this exercised all our language abilities to try and describe what a dip-stick was in Greek ….. (Rodders - they call it a Diktis Ladiou …..) Anyway ….. enough of all this! Later in the week, I had a great afternoon with Liz in the village making cards with the biggest stock of craft supplies I have ever seen. Her Apothiki is set up as a Craft Room absolutely bursting with excellent stuff! We had a great time embossing, snipping, glueing and glittering. There was so much to choose from that I was spoiled for choice. Oh yes, and at the Post Office on Monday where I went to dispatch parcels down under was a situation which could only happen here. Behind the counter were two men; one was our usual helpful chap who always sorts out our postage costs but next to him was a man face down on the desk. I was at the Post Office for 15 minutes, and despite many comings and goings, this recumbent fellow did not move a muscle. I hope it was some sort of hangover and they were not waiting for an ambulance. The lady from the supermarket dropped by and asked about him. I gathered from their muffled giggles, that it must have been one hell of a party!

We met at the Potami Dam

Last Sunday, the CIC went on an outing. About a dozen cars met at the large dam south of Rethymnon and our Guide Joanna, who is a graduate of the University of Crete, gave us a talk and a tour of some special places and routes where the members of the allied forces had been hidden during the war on their difficult journey through the mountains to be picked up from the beaches down in the South of the Island. Such assistance was very dangerous at that time and there are whole villages which suffered terrible reprisals for their part in helping soldiers to escape. Joanna sketched in the characteristics of the peoples who lived in the deep gorges to the East of Mount Psiloritis and to the West of the mountain. She explained how different colonies of peoples came to settle in different landscapes and how they managed to scratch out a living in different locations. (She is obviously an expert in anthropology). We took photographs at a sculptural memorial to all those brave souls in one village and their priest, who took terrible risks to hide escaping allied soldiers. We drove to the village of Apostoli and looked at other work of the artist who had carved the memorial stone and in a glimpse of the slopes of Mount Psiloritis in a short gap in the clouds, we could see some slopes with a small dusting of snow. Our noses and ears were certainly feeling cold in the damp atmosphere so we were glad to sit down at the restaurant where lunch had been organised to have a swift raki to warm us through.

Calliope shows us her house

As lunch was not yet ready, we then set off for another walk around the village where we admired the ancient oak and olive trees and the pretty houses set into the steep hillsides. A lady called Calliope showed us the interior of a traditional house which I found fascinating with pictures of ancestors, an apothiki containing the largest wine vessels ever, and the brightest of rugs on the floor. I was amused to see a lovely corner open fire place with a microwave oven taking the centre of the hearth! Old and new – it was great! The visit to the village house which had many hiding places had to be cancelled as the old man of the house was not at all well now and it would have been wrong to disturb him.

After the village tour we trooped back to the taverna and had an over-large Sunday lunch in front of the open log fire. Chicken pilaffi, pork and two types of salad, local red wine, sesame and honey fritters, apple slices and more raki to end the meal. It was a happy company and we really enjoyed the event. Their pride in producing a large commendation signed by King George VI was touching but we were sad to learn from Joanna that not one postcard or letter had ever arrived after the War was over and no soldiers or veterans had ever returned to the village in the subsequent years. This was an embarrassing fact to swallow, and I wondered how this could have happened and tried to think of rational explanations. Were the escaping soldiers completely in the dark about their whereabouts, were the troops from Australia or New Zealand with little chance of returning, did they think that writing would put people at risk or not reach their temporary hosts? – did the soldiers survive at all? Hard facts to swallow at such a high cost to the villagers. As our organisation is truly international and well integrated, discussion of allied and enemy forces was not something that we really wanted to spend too much time on as 21^st century Europeans. War is horrible, whatever side you are on and we had no wish to reopen old wounds, so there were some painful moments in learning of Crete's history even though none of us had been born then.

A lovely thing happened – almost by accident – on Tuesday afternoon. K and I plus our friend Ian are the delighted custodians of an olive grove. An elderly couple who had inherited a plot of land had come to tidy up their olive trees and the job was beginning to be too much for them as the husband was not very well. It is opposite the Mill and has an enticing set of steps through a double gate into the enclosed garden. They were only too relieved to find some people who would take care of it for them and save them such a journey and hassle. There are 15 olive trees, 2 orange trees, 1 pomegranate and space for a vegetable patch – possibly even a small apothiki to keep tools. We found a water tap with hoses laid on and our friend Ian was delighted to see a neat space where chickens might have a house and run. So we spent the afternoon lopping dead wood from the olive trees and thinning them out so that they would crop nicely and be easier to reach. It will be a lot of work to tidy it up, but just what we all needed to grow some wonderful fresh veg! I am not sure how much time we are going to have for blogging in the next few months – but watch this space for photos of giant vegetables and bottles of olive oil when the time comes!

FALLING TEMPERATURES

Souda for Remembrance Day

  What a week! Lots of travelling back and forth between our village and Rethymnon on the bus (which is cheaper and easier than taking the car) but after Art Class on Tuesday, I even took the car very nearly into Rethymnon town centre to pick up a microwave oven. Playing scaredy-cat, I turned the car quickly on the southern outskirts of the town and beetled fast back to the national road to get back home before I could get embroiled in the one-way system and lunchtime rush hour in one of the many downpours of rain we have had over the week.

As the weather has been damp and cloudy, we have had to force ourselves to get out and about between the showers on one quest or another. On Wednesday, we got the early bus and K did a round turn of various government offices trying to get all the documents together for a Greek Driving Licence.  He did well. A general doctor on the approved list, an ophthalmologist with the relevant dockets representing money which had to be obtained in advance from the bank. He already had passport photos, masses of ID and almost made it to the last port of call (the Mechanilogiko – vehicle licensing building) only to find that a notice on the door indicated that the people were “KATALYPSI” - not working today. Translating it literally, the sign said “Depressed”, but we think it meant that they were on strike – although “depressed” is a very good description of how things are for government offices right now. Car tax stickers are no longer printed, much work is now downloaded from an on-line website and we are confronted with these new developments, announced on the TV, as each day passes. For us, things are a vast improvement because we can access things fairly easily and it seems as though each bureaucrat has been to Charm School since last year where the vast number of people would shift us from window to window and office to office because it was their job to appear to be doing something! With so many less people on the ground a year on, we have found workers really putting themselves out to be helpful and accommodating. We are guessing that they are all very anxious to keep their jobs right now.

As we trudged uphill from the bus stop through the village, we passed some lovely roaring open fires and made the momentous decision to light the first fire of the year. It took some remembering, opening and shutting of doors, vents and re-arranging of the kindling and logs, but it was lovely and cheerful when we eventually got it going. All the washing was aired nicely ready to put away and we found the kettle (about 35 years old) to put on the hob for hot water. AND warmed pyjamas, what luxury is this? In the meantime, the floor rug with Axminster carpet wool which I have been working on is more than half way done. How good it will look when finished is a bit academic, since marble floors are so cold in the winter that we don't think we will care over-much. I'm aiming for rustic but toasty!

Back in the streets, the impact of hard times is beginning to be a little more obvious with mothers and children begging on street corners in Rethymnon and people in the village walking from door to door trying to sell their wares. We also have a new daily bread delivery van which “Beep, beeps” early each morning and brings, bread, pastries and paximadia (rusks) almost to our door. People are obviously making a big effort to make ends meet and get business going …so things are better for us and proving that it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good!

Our CIC has collected funds recently which has been used to buy food for hungry schoolchildren. Our friends Bob and Ev have found church in Rethymnon which has undertaken to cook a hot lunch for 50 every day. There could not be a better gospel message than this (especially as Bob is Jewish and Ev Roman Catholic!!) happily married for more than 40 years; they are a marvellous couple to know and work closely with the local Red Cross – we love them dearly.

We met some friends at Anna's for lunch before their return to Ireland. Hilariously, both they and we turned up with an apple crumble for dessert and Anna and I voted quietly to put mine in the freezer and eat theirs. As I had made more than one special trip out in the car for cooking apples, custard powder (called “Vanilla Pudding”) and then to get extra milk and cream, I was struggling hard not feel put out at having to leave my apple crumble behind us! However, Anna has frozen it and we will enjoy it at a later date, if it survives the freezer.

Today, I took the early bus back into Rethymnon for exercise, which is badly needed when the weather is poor. Back pain seems worse in the cold weather and – in accordance with Doctors orders – swimming and aqua therapy are needed year round. Anna found Aqua Zoumba which turned out to be aqua aerobics to South American music. It was very lively and great fun and there seemed to be lots of ethnic shrieking and yee-haaing as well as dancing as we stretched and shimmied, mercifully covered up by the water. We enjoyed ourselves and were glad that the Greek ladies who attended were so friendly and welcoming. It would be really good to make some new Greek friends and practise conversation, so I am hopeful on all fronts.

Art School Gallery

We had a lovely exchange of information over last weekend when Kimon started to lop back the tree outside the front door. Our lovely neighbours Kostas and Angellikki obviously couldn't cope with watching K wobble about on the ladder any longer making a complete hash with his pruning saw and, as a spritely 71 year old, Kostas leapt up the ladder like a mountain goat attacking the knobbles and branches with professional zeal! I gathered up all the nice leaves for Angelliki's goats and tried to tie up all the long branches which were blocking up the street. Angelliki thanked me for the buckets of leaves I had collected and quickly stripped all the branches of extra leaves quietly sneaking 5 lovely eggs in a plant pot by our front door. The moment was lovely the next day when I decided to make some cookies to say thank you to Kostas and dropped a plate of warm fruit and oat cookies into the kafeneon. Half an hour later, Angelikki's daughter in law came by to ask for the recipe and we had an amusing 5 minutes getting the packets and measures out of the kitchen cupboards as we peeped at ingredients I had used, wrote down the quantities and I mimed the method!! It was nice to feel more accepted as a matron of the village!!!

EYE AIRERS!

Design detail following trip to Knossos!

AEPOS!  (means its windy and when pronounced by our neighbour sounds like Eye Airers!)  

It was a strange awakening on Monday morning. Bleary-eyed, I wondered why one of the tiles on the kitchen floor was ringed with light. Moving closer, I realised that a small mirror had fallen from the kitchen window to the floor along with all the other objects lined up along the window sill. As I stood in front of the opening, a warm dusty blast – as hot as a hair dryer – hit me in the face and I realised that the temperature outside the house was several degrees higher than inside. It was also blowing a houghlie and the waterproofing over the wood pile looked fair set to blow away to the horizon and was making a frighteningly loud noise. Taking a peek out on the upstairs terrace, the sky over the mountains was clear and blue, except for a thick tunnel of grey cloud escaping from the mountain gorge near Margarites and the rest of the sky was covered in a ceiling of dusty grey – blowing all the way from Africa.  A Southerly wind blowing due North -  bringing fine sand with it and gusting powerfully every so often in way that would do damage to anything which was not tied down. All the patio chairs on the terrace were on their sides and bonfire heaps of leaves and rubbish skitted about in an aimless vortex. After retrieving a fallen window box and replanting the enclosed geraniums, I went to choose some summer clothes to wear as, so soon after all the winter woollies had come out of wraps, we were back with summer temperatures again! All this minor damage is nothing compared with what is happening to places ravaged by Hurricane Sandy on the far side of “the Pond” but all our neighbourhood had some sorting out to do.

Waterproofing over the woodpile took a hammering!

Last Sunday was Oxi Day. (Oxi, means NO and commemorates the day that the Greeks repudiated Mussolini during the Second World War and refused to collaborate with Germany and Italy.) In consequence, an exploratory mission to find a nice little taverna in which to enjoy a Sunday lunch on a wonderfully sunny day was slightly derailed by a parade through the town of Perama. Taking the scenic route, we wound round mountain passes and tiny hamlets while the wind began to gust strongly and bypassing signs to Anogia and Houmeri, eventually ended up in Margarites by a hilltop route. We had been told about a taverna there with a fire engine in the garden, but could not find it. Turning back to the village, we ended up at our friend Eleni's taverna, and although the tables were laid, there was no sign of anyone at home.

Raki making at Eleni's in Margertes

Remembering that it was October and time for the wine and raki making, we eventually thought to look behind the house where the Raki Still had been set up and the complicated production was under way as Eleni stoked the fire with olive wood. The family waved yasoo/hello to us and invited us to try this year's vintage together with some peanuts, dried salted chickpeas and half a pomegranate! We watched the process and took a peek as the new brew dripped into a large steel pot from a tall copper still. Eleni took out an instrument to check the alcohol level before two of them manhandled the pot over to a larger vessel and emptied the brew into it. They installed a pump and filter system as the stuff bubbled from this pot into an even larger barrel. Phew, it was strong stuff and, realising that they had other things on their minds that day, we withdrew to another eating place down the hill and just managed to have a quiet lunch with a stunning, if windy, view before the Cretan Hell's Angels arrived … about twenty black leather cladded men and their large motor bikes. Once they took off their helmets and sat down, they looked less fierce but it all got much noisier after that and we took our leave!

Just before the Hell's Angels arrived .... 

We made our way home via Angeliana, (a pretty little town close to Perama which we were avoiding due to the Parade Day road block) and another route home, equally circuitous, but managed to find out about the countryside around a large inland cliff which stands out from a distance of many miles. We weaved through the fertile plots and groves in the upper reaches of the Geropotamos river winding backwards and forwards in not quite the right direction until we arrived at the back of the familiar KTEO (MOT) centre close to the main road again. I am not sure we would venture there again as the barren rocks had been used for quarrying and industrial buildings, but it was very good to piece together a bit more of the jigsaw map and learn how all the twinkling lights we can see from the mountain villages at night fit together by road. Accurate maps are still a little hard to find in Crete, and we stowed the routes away in our minds for future reference.

We were surprised that the strong gusts of wind we had experienced up on the mountain slopes were absent at home. Sunday afternoon in Skepasti was hot, clear and so peaceful for all the rest of Oxi Day and we had a cup of tea on the terrace in complete peace and quietude.

My painting of the 'still life' items I had taken with me to Art Class was equally uninspired!

It was only a brief respite, however, the winds of Crete caught up with us again overnight to start a busy week with lots of tying down and clearing up to do. Tuesday was calm enough to get to Kastellos for Art Class; Wednesday we achieved an IKA book for each of us (health insurance for senior citizens). It was the usual performance and involved multiple trips backwards and forwards between the IKA office, the Citizens Advice Bureau and the bookshop to photocopy documents. Fun and games, but we did it – RESULT! We get much more a sense of achievement about these processes than ever we did in the UK, because each official document is a bit like going in search of the golden fleece and feels like a treasure hunt. We discovered a great stationery shop and a bit more information about the Minoans in the process. KALOMINA!

An Artist's Impression of the Minoans.  Picture on the wall in the IKA Office!

MINOAN MUSINGS .....

It's Spaghetti Night tonight. Just when we thought we were the only Brits in our village, suddenly we find that there are quite a number of us – some we know and some we don't know – but the village we visited five years ago which was quiet, sleepy and where we were greeted so kindly by several elderly Cretan residents as complete strangers from a foreign land, has changed quite a lot. All of a sudden, there is a bit of a buzz with lots of cars and trucks coming and going in the square, the little primary school seems busier, local craftsmen and artisans have work to do. Little by little, we have made a small social nub of ex-Pats and have started arranging to coordinate Greek classes and cheerful bring-along suppers, so that we can keep in touch with each other and find somewhere else to go when the tavernas are shut for the winter, the weather hits us with full force and we are holed up indoors.

Autumn is creeping in slowly. We have just started to add one extra layer on the beds and close the windows in the evenings and are putting off the evil moment when we have to haul out the boxes holding all the long sleeves and warm trousers which will be needed for the winter. According to our local Crete weather forecast, we will have rain on Sunday! Fortunately we have had our winter wood load delivered and have arranged some weatherproofing over it to keep it reasonably dry. Each new morning brings in a crop of dried up leaves on the upstairs terrace and the front porch and K is looking out his pruning knife so that we can pollard the shady tree at the front of the house, which is now beginning to look more and more threadbare.

I am still fired up by the wonderful course I attended in Knossos last week and abstract efforts at my art class on Tuesday reflected all the Minoan designs we had been absorbing over the three days we were there. Hosted by the British School of Athens we arrived at a building called The Taverna (which had confused me when I read the programme as we seemed to be gathering for an awful lot of eating) but which turned out to be a former wayside inn and developed and used by the British School as a base for Archaeology students. The accommodation was wonderfully clean and well equipped – for archaeology students – but a bit turn of the century in the whole gamut of mod cons! However, we all took a huge bunch of keys, since there were numerous doors to negotiate, and settled into our rooms, quite expecting an H Rider Haggard hero to appear and launch us into an episode of King Solomon's mines. The Taverna had been used by Sir Arthur Evans and his builders while his house, the Villa Ariadne, was being built in 1906. Arthur Evans was the British fellow who organised the original dig to uncover the large Palace at Knossos, the legendary home of King Minos and hence the term for the people of this time - the Minoans.  We looked around at the enormously tall pine and cedar trees which had all obviously been planted at this time. They provide wonderful shade for the gardens now and there were plenty of comfy cane chairs on the verandahs to sit and chat between outings and talks.

Villa Ariadne

We went on about eight site visits in and around Knossos in the 3 days. Some palaces, some villas, and a cemetery or two. We needed help to marry up the plans in our hand with what was on the ground and to use our imagination to wonder at the sophistication of people who lived at least/approx 1500 years BCE. We visualised inside and outside staircases, light wells, and kept hearing odd phrases such as the site of a lustral basin and attention to peak sanctuaries. (For a good 15 minutes, my bad hearing was boggling like a dimwit at the idea of pig sanctuaries … !!! [We live and we learn and I checked that a lustral basin = sunken room entered down a short flight of steps found in Minoan palaces so described by Sir Arthur Evans].

On a trip to Heraklion central by bus, we visited the Archaeological Museum – a must – and saw the craftsmanship of the early, middle and late Minoans plus a few later Ancient Hellenic and Roman artifacts. The ceramics were stunning in fantastic shapes and forms with beautiful decoration which seemed so contemporary to my eyes. 

my effort!

Roy and Jan's effort!

We had two afternoon sessions of sorting discarded pottery shards, drawing some of the pieces and a
challenge of reconstructing pots from replicas obtained for this purpose. We had some spectacular
successes but my effort looked terrible. The course ended with a visit to a potter who had made
a speciality of producing copies of the Minoan designs, but had also researched the evolution of
kilns, potters’ wheels, firing techniques and different decorations available to these Bronze Age
master craftsmen.

It took a few days to recover from all the early starts, scrambling to reach awkward sites and general exertion, but we had all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Next stop Phaistos, next April!

BACK TO THE BUREAU

 We have been really busy of late, dodging about and trying to sort out boring paperwork in public offices. One thing you learn about living in Greece is that getting banking, bills, posting letters or dealing with bureaucracy is almost bound to take up an entire day. I once remember reading a book called Parkinson's Law which had a lot to say about time management and how someone who worked in an office would write a letter, put it an envelope and post it. The task would take an hour at the most, whilst a little old lady searching for paper, thinking what she had to say, losing her glasses and having to walk down to the Sub Post Office for a book of stamps would take all day over it.

Parkinson was right – it is all true. Today, I spent the whole day getting a form notarised at our solicitor's office. The lift was broken at his building so I took the stairs and could not find his office anywhere. After getting to the correct floor, confused because there was a mezzanine level which I had not accounted for, I eventually spoke with him and his assistant and we got the form completed and stamped. Added to the fact that the Hotels Bus into town takes about an hour to do a 20 minute bus journey, the achievement so far had taken most of the morning. Then on to the Bookshop to get the papers photocopied. Copies downstairs – what is your name – Kyria Capernaros – please take the package upstairs and pay. Queued for easily 20 minutes to pay 33 cents and got a very fancy carrier bag to put them in! Then to the Post Office. Inside the waiting area, a mutinous and muttering crowd all arrived and took a numbered ticket from the machine at the door but were squaring their shoulders to push in whenever they got the chance. There were seats (fortunately) so I sat down and awaited my fate. My number was 357, the one counter assistant operating from the six booths (all occupied, but not serving anyone) had a box above her head which said 334. Not quite abandoning hope, I looked around and most of us had just one letter to post! It took nearly an hour to achieve! Still the form was for an office in France and, if anything, my recent experience of their bureaucracy is even more ridiculous, so I will wait to see what might happen next and what other challenges the French Government have in store for me! I filled out a form last November to apply for a miniscule portion of a pension from them as a result of working in France when I left college and we have been playing bureaucratic tennis ever since. They have had a copy of every document I possess, and still nothing seems to pacify them. They were desolated that I did not keep my salary slips from 40 years ago – and it will be interesting to see what an Attestation d'Existence signed and stamped by a Greek Solicitor will evoke.

Meanwhile, Kimon had spent the morning at the electricity board and the driving licence authority, so he arrived in the gardens where we had arranged to meet, hot, sweaty and similarly exhausted. He only had to sort out his medication from the pharmacy before he could relax for the day. It all seems much harder than going to work!

Watercolour for the 'Made in Kastellos' Exhibition

We have had some lovely days, though. Last weekend, we signed up for a CIC gentle walk from Arkadi to Pikris down a lovely wooded gorge finishing at a taverna at the end for Sunday Lunch. It was terribly hot and everyone looked a bit pink and burnt when they arrived. As back problems were not yet better, I had waited in the village with my paints and sketch book and had a lovely morning painting landscapes until lunchtime. There were 32 people and 6 dogs in the party, so lunch with all those pooches under the table was a bit lively!

On Tuesday, Art School was fun and the group spent the morning painting from a large complicated still life which was far from easy. Next week, we will no doubt have to tackle it from a different angle!

We have had one or two quick swims in the week, which is the right kind of exercise for back strengthening and while the weather holds, we will make the most of it. Everyone who lives here welcomes September and October as the mornings and evenings are deliciously cool, although the days are still nice and warm.

I am off to the Villa Ariadne in Knossos for an Archaeology Course on Wednesday and slightly nervous, in case it is a bit learned. K did not want to go. The programme looks intensive – starting off for field work at 8.00 am each morning for 3 days and talks/activities until the evening. We will see what happens. I expect the next blog will have lots of information about Bronze Age and Minoan pots. Eviva!